A Harry Potter Christmas Carol
by Moonlit Jedi
Summary: Happy holidays everyone! Two stories we all know and love, made into one! Not in the Christmas mood yet, maybe this will help!
1. Chapter 1

"A Hogwarts Christmas Carol"

Ebenezer Scrooge – Cornelius Fudge

Bob Cratchit – Arthur Weasley

Mrs. Cratchit – Molly Weasley

Tiny Tim – Ginny Weasley

Cratchit Children – Weasley Children

Nephew Fred – Ludo Bagman

Clara – Nymphadora Tonks

Belle – Narcissa Malfoy

Past – Minerva McGonagall

Present - Hagrid

Future – Dementor of Azkaban

Storytellers – Harry, Ron, Hermione

Donation Men – Dean and Seamus

Beggar - Dobby

Jacob Marley – Barty Crouch Sr.

_So guys... its been about 5 years since I've written for This is my version of "A Harry Potter Christmas Carol." I know there are probably around roughly 19283 different "Harry Potter Christmas Carols" on this website... but I've always wanted to do my own. _

_I tried to keep it as close to the books as I could._

_I'm aware that I am using some of the original text in my story. That belongs to the great Charles Dickens._

_Yes, Tonks and Ludo are a couple here. I don't ship them, (or anyone, really) but it seemed to fit._

_I really didn't want to make Ginny the Tiny Tim-like figure here, but again, it just worked._

_Carry on!_

"_Old Crouch was dead, to begin with. Dead. As dead as a doornail."_

"_Ronald, could you be more blatant?"_

"_What? That's is how the story begins, Hermione! You mean you didn't know that?"_

"_Oh... well of course I did! I just... just..."_

_Harry cleared his throat. "Ron, Hermione, can we... er..." he gestured to the readers eagerly awaiting the story._

_Hermione cooled off. "Right. Anyway."_

"_He was a twisted hand at the grindstone, Fudge. A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, clutching, covetous old sinner."_

_The Minister had a tiring job. He missed his old partner and friend, Barty Crouch, who mysteriously disappeared. Crouch seemed to be the only one who understood and sympathize with him. _

_It was Christmas Eve, and things were winding down at the Ministry. The only ones left inside the building were he, Fudge, and one other ministry worker, Arthur Weasley._

_Arthur Weasley was a tired, balding red-haired man. This man's name was Arthur Weasley. Arthur worked tirelessly in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry. Ridiculously underpaid, but a generous, warm, jolly, good fellow. This particular man knocked on Fudge's door. _

"What?" Arthur heard Fudge bark from behind the heavy, mahogany door.

"Sir, it's Arthur Weasley."

"Enter."

"What do you want, Weasley?"

Arthur closed the door behind him. Fudge, a blundering, gray-haired man was sitting behind his rather big desk in the elaborate office. On his desk were piles of deep purple scrolls of parchment on which was a letter writing in silver, loopy writing. Ministry firing notices. _What a time to sack someone,_ Arthur thought to himself.

"Sir, I-I was wondering..."

He took a deep breath. He wanted more than ever to request Christmas Day off. It's been years since he and his partner, Perkins, had ever had a full day off on the twenty-fifth. His children understood that work was very important in order to keep bread on the table, but he could tell they were hurt every time he left a steaming Christmas pudding to report to an incident.

"Weasley, I don't have all day," Fudge said.

"Well, tomorrow, sir-"

All of a sudden the two men heard a bellowing "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"from outside the office door.

Fudge cringed. Of all the days.

Without even bothering to knock, Ludo Bagman burst through the doorway, ran up to Fudge and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ludo, what a surprise."

"Cornelius, a very happy day to you!" He spotted Arthur. "Ah, Arthur, my boy! A Merry Christmas to you!"

Arthur inclined his head and gave Ludo a hearty handshake. "Same to you! Same to you!" He was about to give Ludo a pat on the back, but catching the menacing look on his employer's face made him think twice.

"Ludo, what the blazes do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh, Cornelius, I don't mean to keep you long, I can certainly see your... erm... busy indeed," he said spotting the huge pile of firing notices on the desk.

"Get to the point then," Fudge stood up and went over to a cabinet for a brandy. Ludo always made him need one of these.

"Cornelius, I came to invite you to Christmas dinner with me and Nymphadora tomorrow!"

"Why ever did you get married to that atrocious girl?"

"Why, you ask? Cornelius, I fell in love!"

"Love! Ha! She's the only thing sillier than a Merry Christmas! Always changing her appearance, not good for security."

"Well, I think that though Christmas has never put a scrap of gold in my pocket, I say Christmas has done me good, and will do me good, and I say God bless it!"

"Well said, Ludo!" Arthur said, clapping.

"Weasley!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Oh, Cornelius, what rubbish this is. Please consider coming. Nymphadora's cooking!"

Fudge tried to suppress a smirk as he imagined Nymphadora Tonks handling a flaming hot stove. "How... nice."

There was another knock on the door.

"Oh, what now?" barked Fudge. "Hurry up!"

In walked two teenagers whom Fudge supposed were Hogwarts students. "What do you want?"

"Minister," the first boy said. "Me name is Seamus Finnegan, and this is me partner, Dean Thomas." Dean inclined his head. "We're here representing S.P.E.W."

"What the blazes is spew?"

"Pardon, sir, S.P.E.W. The Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare."

"...oh."

"Yes. We're here to talk to you about a donation."

"Donation? Boys, why a donation? Elves don't need money!"

"_Hermione, tell me you got Dean and Seamus hooked on Spew?"_

"_Yeah Hermione, how much did you have to pay them?"_

"_Well maybe they'll be an example to the lot of you! Now shut up will you!"_

"Sir, there are some elves that want paying and better working conditions! Days off, pensions, sick leave! They need love too! We work to convince the elves that these things are not evils, but something to make their miserable lives better."

"So in other words, your trying to change the ways of a system that has been the same since the middle ages?" snorted Fudge.

_Hermione: ..._

Dean and Seamus looked taken aback. "Please sir, just a sickle, or even a knut is one step closer to making a house elf happy and at peace with himself!" Dean said.

"Please. Elves are made to work. Nothing more."

"But some would rather die!" Seamus said.

"Well if they'd rather die then they better do it! It'll decrease the surplus elf population!"

"Oh, dear."

Ludo cleared his throat loudly. "Well, I'd better get going," he said hurriedly. "Er, see you tomorrow Cornelius?"

Fudge growled.

"Well, if you change your mind. Now, I will make my donation," he turned to the boys and put a single knut in their bag. "I know its not much, but..." Ludo looked awkward.

"Oh no, sir. Every little bit helps." Dean said.

Ludo tipped his hat. "Well, a Merry Christmas to all of you," he hung up a wreath on Fudge's door. "And a Happy New Year."

"Merry Christmas, Ludo," Arthur said.

Ludo bowed. "Same to you, Arthur. Same to you."

"Humbug!" Fudge shouted. He stalked back over to his desk and plopped down, ignoring the two boys.

Dean and Seamus looked at each other and walked slowly back up to Fudge. Seamus cleared his throat. "Now, sir, er, about the... er... d-donation?"

Fudge looked up. "GET OUT!"

Dean and Seamus jumped and bolted out of the door.

"Aye," Fudge said. "What's the world coming to, Weasley?"

"I... don't know sir." Arthur said, wondering if he was ever going to get the chance to ask for a day off.

All of a sudden, Arthur hear a muffled song coming from down below. Fudge must have heard it to, because he stomped over to the window of his office and wrenched it open.

There, standing directly beneath his window, and singing very loudly indeed, were two tiny house elves.

"_Deck the halls with boughs of holly_

_fa la la la la la la la la!_

_'Tis the season to be jolly_

_fa la la la la la la la la!_

_Don we now our... gay... appa..."_

The house elves seemed to stop mid-song, seeing the look on Fudge's now purple face.

"What the hell do you want?"

One of the elves sputtered. "Er, will sir give knut for a song? A knut for Dobby? And perhaps Winky?"

The other house elf, whom Arthur supposed was Winky threw herself down in the snow and started howling. "No money! No money for Winky! You is a bad elf, you is! Caroling for money! If master could see Winky now, oh the shame! The shame!"

The other elf, Dobby, simply smiled at Fudge. Fudge growled and slammed the window. He then went over to the door and grabbed the wreath Ludo had given him, and chucked it at the elves. Arthur heard them squeal.

"You work your hands off to make your money, and people want you to give it away!"

"Oh... yes sir. Indeed." Arthur started, taking his mind off the poor elves. He decided, though it seemed the worst time to do it, to ask Fudge for his day off. "Er, sir?" He asked.

"What?" Fudge responded sharply.

"Er, I was wondering, sir, tomorrow is Christmas Day and.. er... Perkins and I were wondering if maybe we could have, h-half a day off, sir?"

"Half a day? But, why?"

"Sir, it's Christmas. I need to be with my family."

"It's a poor excuse. However, it seems that you really...must. Come in half an hour later."

"But, sir, half an hour is not nearly enough time!"

"Weasley, Christmas is the busiest time of year for you! Idiots bewitching Christmas trees and presents, and goodness knows how many 'surprise' Christmas puddings will be set on Muggle Christmas-celebrating fools for sheer amusement!"

"Please, Minister. Think about it. December the twenty-fifth has been recorded as mishap-free for the past twelve years! It's been under control! Sir, you'll just be wasting your gold paying us to sit here! Doing nothing!"

The Minister considered a moment and put down his quill. "If something happens tomorrow, and you're not here, it'll be a hell of a chunk out of your pay."

Arthur hung his head. "Yes, sir."

"However, let us hope that does NOT happen." He paused. "Take the day off."

Arthur had to restrain himself from leaping into the air. "Oh, Minister, th-thank you so much! Molly will be so pleased!"

"Yeah, yeah, but be here only earlier the next day."

"Oh, you can count on me sir! A very Merry Christmas to you!"

"Bah! Humbug!"

_Later that night, Fudge was still sitting in his office, going over paperwork. No matter, he thought. If I was home I'd just be sitting around anyway._

_Then, something caught his eye at the other end of the room. He could have sworn that the doorknob on his great office door moved. He stared at it. It looked like just a doorknob from here. Humbug, he thought. Perhaps it was the dim light of the candle. Or the brandy. _

_He had just begun to bend his head to look at this papers again, when this time, he was certain that the doorknob moved. Or flashed. Or... something. He got up and walked slowly towards his door, a little nervous. He drew his wand out from his pin-striped robes and gasped as he came within a foot of the doorknob. _

_The doorknob had changed shape. It looked like... but it couldn't be... _

"B-Barty Crouch?" Fudge squeaked.

_"Fuuuuuuudge," _the doorknob said.

"W-what the - ?"

But it left as soon as it had come. The doorknob was still a doorknob.

Fudge then heard something. Something coming toward the office doors from outside. He locked the door from the inside. "Go away!" he warned. "I'll, I'll call the Aurors!"

_Clink, Clash, Clink, Clash,_ went the sound. Like chains rattling. They were coming closer. He raced back to his desk with a shiver, for his blazing, warm fire had just been mysteriously extinguished.

_"Cornelius Fuuudge..."_ said a voice.

"What do y-you want with me?" Fudge whimpered. "G-go away!"

_"Cornelius Fuuudge..." _the voice repeated.

"Nooo!" Fudge said and ducked, for a silvery-white figure had just emerged through his presumably solid, locked doors. The figure was thin, tall, wearing a torn suit and long, heavy, loud, chains.

Fudge could feel the figure close to him. He jumped over his desk and crouched beneath it. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Cornelius, don't you recognize me? In life I was your partner, Barty Crouch."

Fudge had stopped shaking. He peaked his head over his desk. "Barty?" He said. "Is that really you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Crouch said.

"But, you, you're dead?" Fudge said, straightening up.

"Yeah. Murdered. Don't know who did it, though. Wasn't feeling right at the time."

"Oh, dear. S-sorry to hear about that. Er, w-what brings you here? A-and what's with the chains?"

"Ah, right. To business, Fudge. These chains. I formed these chains in life by my acts of evil."

"Evil? My dear Barty, you were never an evil person!"

"Fudge, I sent my own son to Azkaban. I was merciless and cruel to people during the times of You-Know-Who. I didn't give proper trials. I never heard people out. I was terrible to my house-elf!"

"Oh, well, Barty, that was just an elf."

"Nah, elves do get a very raw deal, now that I think about it. If I was alive, I'd try to pass some laws or something..."

_Hermione:beams:_

_Ron and Harry:gape:_

Fudge didn't say anything for a moment. "But, why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Fudge, you are currently forming your chains by your own acts of selfishness and utter pompousness!" Crouch looked at the pile of papers on his desk. "Sacking people at Christmastime?" he shook his head. "Fudge, Fudge. Treachery! You're chains will be longer than mine!"

"But, I don't want chains! Barty! Help me! I-I'm just doing my job!"

"You can be minister of magic without the nastiness though! Look at how you treat your employees!"

"But-but," Fudge sputtered.

"Now, we're giving you a chance to change yourself. Tonight you will be haunted by three spirits."

"Haunted? Oh Sages, I've already had enough haunting thank you very much! This is Dumbledore's doing, I know it is!"

Barty shook his head. "Expect the first ghost tonight when the bell tolls one."

"But, can't I meet them all at once and get it over with?"

"When the bell tolls one! Change, Cornelius Fudge. Change!"


	2. Chapter 2

"A Hogwarts Christmas Carol"

Ebenezer Scrooge – Cornelius Fudge

Bob Cratchit – Arthur Weasley

Mrs. Cratchit – Molly Weasley

Tiny Tim – Ginny Weasley

Cratchit Children – Weasley Children

Nephew Fred – Ludo Bagman

Clara – Nymphadora Tonks

Belle – Narcissa Malfoy

Past – Minerva McGonagall

Present - Hagrid

Future – Dementor of Azkaban

Storytellers – Harry, Ron, Hermione

Donation Men – Dean and Seamus

Caroler – Dobby

Jacob Marley – Barty Crouch Sr.

_And with that, the ghost of Fudge's former partner vanished into the darkness, leaving Fudge once again alone in his office. _

_Good. I hope he straightens out._

_I agree, Harry. _

_Ron, its your turn to read. _

_...spew. I just don't understand._

_Fudge wasn't going to pretend he wasn't frightened. However, he still had work to do. Humbug, he thought to himself. Spirits. What do they know? _

_But what about those chains?_

_Well, old Barty was always a strange bird. Fudge pushed the ghosts out of his mind and continued on with his work. Although he still kept his wand within reach. _

_It was getting late. Fudge looked up to the clock and felt a slight twitch of his nerves. The clock was starting chime the hour. _

_Ding. _

_Fudge stood still. Nothing._

_Suddenly, a blinding light appeared in the office, knocking him over and dowsing everything with its brilliance. _

_Fudge ducked under his desk again, wondering what on earth the year on the sherry had been. _

_Then the light extinguished itself. Silence._

_He slowly crawled out from under the desk and peeped his head over the top. He felt his jaw drop. _

_Minerva McGonagall was standing in the center of the room._

"M-Minerva? Minerva McGonagall?"

Only, it wasn't quite Minerva McGonagall. She was transparent and pearly, wearing her usual emerald robes, with a wreath around her pointed hat and carrying a single candle.

"Are, are you supposed to be the spirit that -"

"Yes, I am Fudge. Now get up. We haven't got all night."

"Excuse me. What business do you have in my office. And, are you dead?"

"No, Fudge. Barty did tell you I was supposed to show up, did he not?"

"Yes, but -"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll catch on." As she said this, we flicked her wand at the window and it flew open. She floated toward it.

"What, Minerva, are we, we not, flying are we?"

She grabbed his forearm. "Oh, just hang on."

With that, they sped out of the window and over the rooftops of London, Fudge hanging on to McGonagall for dear life.

"You must be mad, McGonagall! I'll be contacting the school govern-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, for he had just flown into a chimney.

"Watch it, will you?"

"Well stop blubbering and pay attention!"

They flew on towards a bright oval light that had materialized in the sky. "Minerva, what is that light?"

"The Past."

"Oh."

They flew into the light and Fudge found himself flying over the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Minerva, what -"

They landed in front of the doors to the entrance hall.

"What are we doing here? Isn't the term over?"

But it didn't look like the term was over. Actually, it looked like it was ending. There were students with suitcases and carts, all heading boarding the horseless carriages that transported them to the Hogsmeade Station.

"Minerva, these kids, they're..."

Fudge could not believe his eyes. He was looking at his old classmates, students he went to school with when he himself was a boy. It just couldn't be...

"Come," McGonagall said. She led him into the school where Fudge was seeing more and more of old classmates and friends and teachers, long, long forgotten.

"Hello Lucius! Look, its Lucius as a boy! My, my."

"Don't waste your breath trying to talk to them, Fudge. There are just shadows of the past. They cannot see nor hear you."

Fudge barely heard her. "But, I haven't seen these people in ages! This is, this is -" the entered the Great Hall where a few students were sitting in random places at the four long house tables, clearly not going home for the holidays.

"Is he too, familiar?" McGonagall asked, gesturing to a paunchy boy sitting alone, almost completely hidden by piles and piles of books.

Fudge walked up to the boy and felt a jolt in his stomach. "Merlin's Beard," Fudge whispered. "That's me."

This boy was clearly concentrating on his book, which Fudge remembered was something that had to do with politics.

"Cornelius! Cornelius!" he heard someone say.

A boy had just run up to him. "The coaches are leaving! You won't get home for Christmas!"

"Bah, Christmas. I'll be doing my homework."

"But, Cornelius, you don't have any, you've already done it!"

"I'm making sure its right! Now leave!"

"What do you think you're gonna do? Become minister of magic? You're seventeen! Take a load off!"

But the boy was summoned by his fellows and was off. "Well, see you in a few then."

"I was alone a lot," Fudge told McGonagall. "I liked... quiet. "

"Yes, but everything Christmas was like this, Fudge. What Christmas memories do you have?"

"Hey, I scored perfectly on my O.W.L.S because of all the extra time I spent studying for them over Christmas!"

_Blimey. Here I thought you were the only nutter about work, Hermione."_

_Oh please Ron. I'm not that bad._

"Fudge," said McGonagall, "you have known nothing but working your fingers to the bone at Christmas. And you're still doing it! Why aren't you with family and friends?"

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "I-I'm never invited."

"Rubbish," McGonagall said. "Ludo invited you to his house."

Fudge didn't say anything. He was looking at a tall figure coming his way. Albus Dumbledore.

"Staying again, Cornelius?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah. Not feeling up to merry-making?"

"Work is more important, sir."

"I see. You know, Cornelius, I'd be careful if I were you. You are an excellent student, but, I think you should take some time off once in a while. You work more than your professors!"

"Please, sir. I – I want to do well on my N.E.W.T.S, sir."

"What do you want to do after graduation, Cornelius?"

"Well, sir. I, er, I want to get into politics sir."

"Mhm. You want to be a man of power. Why, may I ask?"

"I just, I like the idea sir."

"You want to be careful. Sometimes power and wealth cannot buy happiness."

"Professor Dumbledore sir, I er..."

"It's just a thought," Dumbledore said. "Candy cane?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Another Muggle sweet I've grown accustomed to," he said, holding up a red and white-striped candy. "Quite popular this time of year."

Young Cornelius shook his head. Even his Transfiguration professor has gone off on this stupid Christmas kick.

"Come, Fudge. There's much to see," McGonagall said.

Fudge came back out of his reverie. "What? Oh, right. More."

Again he and McGonagall were speeding though the wooshing light and landed right in the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic itself.

Fudge gasped. "Done already?" he asked. "Well then, thank you. I'll be off." He tried to make a break for the golden elevators that would lead him safely to his office and away from this madness, but stopped dead in his tracks; for he had almost run into a shadow of his nineteen-year-old self.

"Minerva! Its, its the annual Ministry Christmas party! Right after I had been apprenticed!" He followed himself and gasped again as he looked into the eyes of his old master.

Fudge looked around and the forgotten memories warmed him. The music, the laughter, the dancing. Fudge couldn't help but smile. His old master was handing out drinks and spirits, dancing with friends, and everyone from the ministry, every employee and their friends, were mingling with each other, executives and common folk, chairpersons and house elves.

Fudge followed his younger self all around the huge room, McGonagall trailing him. Fudge smiled slightly as he watched himself greet important people with a strong handshake and bow. He was proud then, and he was proud now. He was so successful for other wizards of his age.

"You were quite popular," McGonagall said.

"Oh yes," Fudge responded.

"You would never know it, nowadays," McGonagall said under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Fudge felt himself redden as a tall, slender female meandered up to the young Fudge standing next to him.

"Cornelius!" The young woman said.

The young Fudge sputtered and blushed. "N-Narcissa! How, how lovely to see you!" He made quite a deal of making his apprentice pin noticeable as he kissed Narcissa's hand with a flourish.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Young Fudge said to her.

"Yes, yes. Mother and Father were invited. I'm here with my sisters. It is quite nice to be able to mingle with such high-up people, don't you agree?"

Two more girls, about Narcissa's age walked up to her. One very sullen with dark hair was dragging another rather sullen looking youth, the other, rather jumpy and brunette.

"Cissy, who is this?" the black-haired sister said. Old Fudge felt himself stiffen. Bellatrix. That death-eating fool.

"It's Cornelius Fudge, Bella. Junior assistant to the minister," Narcissa bragged. "A dear friend of mine from Hogwarts."

"Can we go? I'm bored," the brown-haired sister said.

"Please, Andromeda. You don't know a good party when you see one," Bellatrix snapped.

"You two talk to the smuggest doofuses of wizard kind!" Andromeda said. "I'm getting more of that mead. You need it to have fun at this joint." She stalked off.

Old Fudge groaned. And Ludo wanted him to spend a day with offspring of that.

"Don't mind her, Cornelius," Narcissa said. "Come, mingle with me." She took his hand and Young Fudge, finding his feat again, followed her lead.

"You were head over heels for her, Fudge," McGonagall said.

"Yes," Fudge said. "She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on."

"Of course, there was another Christmas Eve spent with Narcissa Black. A few years later."

"Oh Minerva," Fudge said. "Please, don't show me that!"

But Fudge had no control. McGonagall had grabbed his wrist, and again they were speeding through blinding light and landed in a ministry office.

Fudge was slightly older, and he had been working on some papers for the minister. Lucius Malfoy was sitting next to him at another desk, counting gold coins.

"Taxes are good this year, Cornelius," Lucius said. "Wonder how many people had to scrap the bottom of their cauldrons in order to get it in on time, poor things."

Young Fudge chuckled and returned to recording the minutes from the minister's last meeting.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Young Fudge said.

Narcissa had entered, her long hair cascading down her shoulders and back. There were snow flakes shining in her hair and on her cloak, and her pale face was rosy from the bitter cold. Lucius eyed her slightly.

"Cornelius," she said.

"Yes, Cissy?"

"Cornelius, you – you told me you'd spend Christmas with me."

"So I did," Young Fudge said.

"Well, Cornelius, its – its almost midnight. I've grown tired of waiting."

"What? The night is still young!"

"Cornelius! You've been doing work all this time! Can't it – can't it wait until the twenty-sixth?"

"Why wait? It needs to be done."

"That's the thing, Cornelius. I'm tired of waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"You! I'm waiting for some attention! You – said ages ago you had wanted to marry me! Well, countless men have approached me and I could have said yes, but, I told them I was spoken for by you!"

"Mmm," Fudge said, sipping a brandy.

"Cornelius Fudge! Are you listening to a word I'm saying!"

"Huh? Oh, yes! What do you take me for?"

"You are a lier and a cheat and I wish I'd never even talked to you! You greedy, you foul, all you care about is your stupid job!" Narcissa said, raising her voice.

"Stupid job? Cissy, this puts the bread on the table! You think I can concentrate on marrying you? I need to make my money! Weddings are expensive!"

"But its not the money that counts, Cornelius! It's the love! Don't you have any left for me at all?" Narcissa was close to tears.

"A man needs to get his priorities straight, Cissy."

"Don't call me that! My name is Narcissa! And we are done! Through! Finished! Goodbye!" She turned and stormed toward the door.

"Ciss - Narcissa! Wait! Please," Fudge said, tearing after her, "I-I can fix it! Please, just give me a few more months!"

"No, Fudge," she said. "I'm done with you."

Lucius stood up. "Please, madam," he said. "Let me walk you to the fireplaces. A fine lady like you shouldn't be walking alone in a big building like this."

"Oh," Narcissa said, face flushing. "Oh th-thank you, er, what is your name?"

"Lucius. Lucius Malfoy, madam."

"Oh," Narcissa said, giggling. "I'm Narcissa. Narcissa Black."

"I know," Lucius said. He offered her his arm and led her out the door, leaving his friend alone in his office, the gold on the table reflecting its light in Narcissa's shimmering hair.

Old Fudge had tears streaming down his face. "Minerva," he said, "Why are you torturing me? Why are you showing me these horrible memories?"

"Please, Fudge," McGonagall said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "There are again, shadows of what have been. They are what they are. Don't blame me. You created these memories yourself."

"But, oh Minerva," Fudge said.

"This sure explains to me why you keep Lucius so close," McGonagall said.

"Leave! Get me home! Now!" Fudge yelled. He sunk down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. He felt the cold room leave and the warmth of his present-day office materialized around him, leaving him quite alone and do nothing to wait for the next spirit that was scheduled to visit when the next hour struck.

_Hahahaha, that was the funniest thing I'd ever seen._

_Ron, once again, you have the emotional range of a - _

_Blimey. Even as a kid old Lucius was slippery. That does explain a lot. _


End file.
